Sinister Justice

by Steve Pickens

  “It is my feeling—no—my belief that Wilde Park is inhabited by the devil.”

  “You owe me a nickel,” whispered Jake.

  “I don’t actually recall betting.”

  “Miss Windsor,” said Longhoffer, unable to hide the irritation in his voice. “Please—”

  “It is my belief,” she continued, cutting him off, “that this land would best be utilized for commercial purposes, so that people will not be harmed by the negative influence of the land and be driven to commit sordid acts of an unspeakable nature.”

  “What the hell does she mean by that?” whispered Longhoffer to Leona Weinberg, but the mic picked it up.

  “Clearing the land will wipe the slate clean. It will purify it. It will make it whole again once I perform the cleansing ritual, which can be done quickly, efficiently, and relatively inexpensively.”

  Windsor’s last statement was met with groans of disgust from the audience and several shouts for her to shut up. One man finally was able to get her to sit down when he shouted, “Pipe down, Moon Unit, we’ve got real problems here!” which was greeted with gales of laughter. Red-faced, Rebecca Windsor sat down.

  “People!” shouted Leona Weinberg, standing up. “Let us not be intimidated by the far left that would have us believe that this land is anything other than worthless swamp. It is filled with the stench of decay and attracts drug abusers, alcoholics and,” she said, looking directly at Sam and Jake, “perverts.”

  “Now that was uncalled for, truly that was,” said Professor Mills to Jake, clearly flustered. “There was no doubt she was directing that at you two.”

  Longhoffer and Monger seemed oblivious, but Burrows, Kennedy, and Lugar were all staring at her open-mouthed. Kennedy looked furious and for a moment, Jake thought he saw the Reverend Crawford holding Evelyn O’Conner in her seat.

  “Commerce,” continued Leona, “is the cornerstone of our economy. It is the very foundation of which this nation is…founded…upon.”

  “How’s that for articulate?” said Jake, not lowering his voice.

  “Our Christian forefathers,” Weinberg continued, glaring at Jake. “Used commerce to build the base on which our country now stands. Progress has always been the American way, from the expansion westward to the founding of our great industries that continue to employ us, feed us, make our families strong and independent, and keep us steadfast in our ongoing struggle to vanquish communism.”

  “You’re joking, right?” said Walter Lugar, his bright green eyes incredulous. “SuperLoMart? Ninety-nine percent of their stock comes from China.”

  “And it is through the use of industry that America will topple communism, Mr. Lugar,” replied Leona acidly.

  “Our forefathers were deists, and furthermore, every example you gave came at the expense of the native populations and the environment. Dinosaurs like you are ruining this planet and choking us off with your greenhouse gasses,” yelled a familiar voice from the back of the room.

  Sam and Jake looked at each other and said in unison, “Alex.”

  “That’s fine coming from you, Mr. Blackburn, given what you’ve done with your property,” said Leona Weinberg.

  Alex strode into the aisle and instantly all eyes were upon him. He was wearing a black leather car coat, maroon sweater, and very tight fitting jeans. Jake figured Alex could have been reciting the phone book and elicited the same rapt attention of the audience.

  “Well, Madam Council, that is part of the answer there. My property. Wilde Park is not privately held property, It is entrusted to the city. Secondly, the development of my land has actually restored five acres of wetland and salmon habitat. The Chinook is a non-invasive addition to the environment and the area reserved for parking has added fifty trees and cleaned up some of the most contaminated ground in Arrow Bay.”

  There were murmurs of approval all around. Miranda Zimmerman giving Alex a somewhat bemused look before returning to her note taking.

  “I’d be a hypocrite if I said I wasn’t for commerce,” said Alex, once again taking command over the audience. “But exercised correctly, with the proper permitting, public input,” he paused, looking at Jake and Alex, winking, “and of course submitting to the State and County environmental review process. And on that note, I’ll let Mr. Ludich take over.”

  “He isn’t recognized!” shouted Reed Longhoffer. “And neither were you!”

  “I recognize Baldo Ludich,” said Emma Kennedy, her voice booming over the hall.

  Jake was once again in awe that such a powerful voice could come from a woman of such slight stature and build. “This ought to be good, if Alex had a hand in it,” said Jake to Sam.

  “Thank you, Madam Council,” said Baldo, bowing toward Emma. “I have here in my hand an injunction filed this afternoon against the half of the city council that has tried to bulldoze—er—if you’ll pardon the expression—this illicit land transfer through improper channels.”

  “You can’t do that!” shouted Reed, turning crimson.

  “I can, Longhoffer. It’s been done.”

  “You conniving fat wop!” Reed shouted.

  Pandemonium broke out in the hall. Ludich’s grandmother, Angela Donatello, had been one of the town founders. Angry shouts began filling the air as Alex rushed forward to hold Baldo back. Reed Longhoffer sat back looking pale. In addition to Ludich, a good portion of Arrow Bay’s population were of Italian descent. The gravity of his racist outburst seemed to have suddenly dawned on him.

  “He’s going to get tarred and feathered,” said Jake, as Professor Mills stood up and moved toward the front of the room.

  Alex had subdued Ludich, and Longhoffer had begun banging his gavel on the table to quell the muted roar that was echoing through the chamber. Tiny Professor Mills made his way through the uneasy crowd to the front of the room and demurely raised his hand. At first, no one recognized him, then Randy Burrows’s deep and sultry DJ’s voice thundered over the room, “The Council recognizes Professor Grover Mills!”

  Suddenly the room had become quiet. The crowd has turned its attention to the balding, diminutive man holding his green tweed hat.

  “Good citizens of Arrow Bay,” he began. “I have only been among your ranks for just over a year, yet I feel very entrenched in this community. I know many of you from the classes I teach at the senior center, the lectures at the library, or the readings on Wednesday nights at the Arrow Bay Book Club. Many of you I now have the honor of calling ‘friend.’

  “I came to Arrow Bay, not out of need or necessity, but by choice. And I chose this city because it still represented to me the ideal things an American city should be—a close-knit, tidy, beautiful community with a rich and vibrant downtown core, unsullied by the soulless face of corporate America,” he said, pausing for a moment.

  “Laying it on bit thick, isn’t he?” whispered Jake to Sam.

  “Don’t be such a cynic,” said Sam.

  “In this town, you can still get fresh baked, homemade pastries and chocolates. You can still shop in bookstores that stock the shelves with local authors. You can go into stores where people know your name and will help you with your special needs.

  “I’m not against commerce. I am against faceless commerce. Moreover, I am against changing the character of a city that still embraces nature rather than shuns it. We are surrounded by and have incorporated into our city greenbelts, hiking trails, bike paths, waterfront parks, streams, lakes, estuaries, and marshes. We have created a symbiotic relationship with nature and wildlife, constructed a unique city, unlike anything else in this part of the state. We have become a model for other communities in Washington, the envy of many other cities who are now scrambling to try to make their neighborhood as lush and verdant as ours. Yet here we stand on the threshold of throwing it all away, for the sake of being able to save ten cents on a can of beans.”

  Jake appreciated what it must have been like to having studied under Professor Mills or to have sat in on one of his lect
ures. The entire hall seemed mesmerized by his words. Everything the professor was saying was undeniably true, and Jake regretted complaining about not being able to pick up a pair of socks when he needed them.

  “Wilde Park is much more than a strip of land. It is a teeming, vibrant marshland, filled with over thirty species of birds and innumerable aquatic life. It provides a place to walk our pets, rest our minds and just appreciate the world we live in. It provides fields for our children to play sports in, at a time when there is a growing obesity epidemic in this country—and all a stone’s throw away from downtown,” he said, taking out a blue handkerchief and dabbing his nose before turning and looking around the room. “To lose it to SuperLoMart would be to cut the very heart of this city out and throw it to uncaring, impersonal capitalist mongrel dogs. We must not let our city become yet another faceless strip mall on the way to somewhere else. Let us not forget the fact that the Sky to Sea Trail is nearing completion. This magnificent network of trails for bicyclists, runners, walkers, nature enthusiasts, bird watchers, fishermen, and even in certain areas hunters will soon circle our city like a golden ring. The trail begins—and ends—in Wilde Park. Have we not worked for a decade to get this trail system complete for the benefit of all? And yet here we stand, about to make sure that the trail—which you have fought for, worked and sweated on for ten years—is about to end. After all this will it terminate at a SuperLoMart parking lot? Is that the legacy this city wants to leave its citizens? I humbly submit that it is not.” Professor Mills sighed and took a small bow. “Thank you.”

  The applause was thunderous. Kennedy, Burrows, and Lugar were all beaming at Professor Mills but Longhoffer, Monger, and Weinberg were all scowling. Reed Longhoffer began banging his gavel down until the head snapped off. Grunting in disgust, he threw it on the floor, picked up his hat, smashed it on his head and started to get up to leave. Leona Weinberg grabbed him by the shoulder and started gesturing at him to sit down.

  Then, over his microphone, which was still on, Reed said, “Oh, just shut it, Leona. That dirty dago bastard has us over a barrel and these slack-jawed yokels are too stupid to realize they’re ruining everything. It’s over.”

  The applause had died down, and now there were several murmurs of outrage. Walter Lugar shouted, “Longhoffer, you’re out of line!”

  “Stuff it, Walter,” snapped Reed, this time storming out the door, the crowd still muttering loudly.

  Randy Burrows took the opportunity to seize command of the meeting by leaning into the microphone and belting out, “Quiet, please!”

  The crowd, still restless, finally quieted down.

  “I move we table the proposal indefinitely in light of public opposition and dubious legality,” said Walter Lugar.

  “Second,” said Emma Kennedy.

  “You can’t do that without the full council!” yelled Leona Weinberg.

  “We certainly can. Reed has cast his vote already,” said Walter.

  “He has not!”

  “Miranda, could you please read back what Mr. Longhoffer had to say about the situation just prior to his leaving. Er, the very last bit. I don’t think we need to go over the other.”

  “‘It’s over?’” replied Miranda Zimmerman with a wry smile.

  “That sounds like he conceded defeat to me. In light of the injunction and the fact that you have no clear title to the land, I’d say tabling the idea is the least of your worries right now.”

  “What is that, some sort of threat?” snapped Leona.

  “I’d say so, as I fully intend to file corruption charges against you and Reed Longhoffer for trying to develop land that is in the public trust,” said Walter.

  “You goat-herding pot-licker!”

  This time the crowd genuinely gasped.

  “Now see here, Leona, we don’t need that kind of talk here,” said Chief Sanderson.

  “What do I care what you think? You,” she hissed, pointing at Sanderson, then stabbing her finger at the crowd, then directly at Reverend Crawford, “and you and you. Letting this town be overrun by disgusting perverts. I’ve seen that flag you fly in front of your church. I know what it means. You’re condoning sodomy, and I won’t stand for it. I’ll see you’re all run out of town.” She wheeled around on Chief Sanderson. “And you too. You’re allowing this town to become the next Sodom and Gomorrah. I will not stand for it. I will not!”

  Sanderson, completely bewildered said, “What in God’s name are you talking about?”

  “As if you didn’t know!” bellowed Leona, rounding on Crawford, about to spout something else, but the good reverend cut her off.

  “I wouldn’t be casting stones if I were you, Leona. You’re liable to find yourself under a whole rock pile,” warned Reverend Crawford.

  “To hell with you all,” she shouted, and with that, she was gone.

  “Someone ought to drop a house on her,” remarked Randy Burrows under his breath. “Ladies, gentleman, please, some order? Thank you. Okay then we have it settled…er, any objection, Verna?”

  The last town council Republican shook her head.

  “Good, good. Okay, we hereby officially close the book on Wilde Park. No bulldozers will be getting near it. That said, I would like to please enlist the help of our intrepid librarian to find out what exactly is the legal scoop on the park so something like this can’t happen again. Agreed?” asked Burrows.

  All council members all agreed.

  “Well,” said Jake with a satisfied smile. “So much for that.”

  Chapter Six

  “Now, before we adjourn for the night, I believe you had an announcement, Chief Sanderson?”

  “There you go, jumping the gun again,” Sam said to Jake.

  “I didn’t think it could get any better than that,” Jake replied. “How do you cap knocking Reed Longhoffer from his little pedestal at the top of the dung heap?”

  “Shh,” said Sam.

  “Er, yes, thank you, Councilman Burrows,” said Chief Sanderson.

  Chief Sanderson, a handsome man in his late fifties with slate gray hair and a burly moustache, took Reed Longhoffer’s empty chair. His moustache twitched for a moment or two as he pulled a small piece of paper out from the front pocket of his starched blue uniform. He looked at it and frowned, pawing at the front of his jacket. “Forgot my damn reading glasses,” he muttered to himself. He sighed and said, “I am here tonight to inform you that a convicted felon is moving into the city.”

  Muted gasps of astonishment came from the crowd, and the dismay was palpable.

  “I was wrong. This night just gets better and better,” Jake said.

  “Thirty years ago there was…an unhappy circumstance leading to the conviction of one Misty Snipes. She’s been released after serving her twenty-five year sentence.”

  More murmurs from the crowd.

  “Normally we don’t inform the general public when a person is released. You serve your time, you pay your debt to society, and you’re square with the law. Miss Snipes is a bit of an exception, and the State Department of Corrections has asked us to relate the information to the population of Arrow Bay.”

  “Why?” asked Rebecca Windsor. “What has she done that required the Department of Corrections to notify us?”

  “I’m not at liberty to give any details…” started Chief Sanderson.

  The crowd erupted into a chorus of groans. Even Jake shook his head at the remark.

  “You mean to tell me that you have to inform us that we have a felon moving into the area but you can’t say what she was convicted of? What kind of crock of BS is that?” shouted George Mayhew, owner of Arrow Bay Antiques.

  “Yeah!” shouted Marilyn Sandy. “How are we supposed to know what to look for or protect ourselves from if we don’t know what she did?”

  “Did she kill someone? Did she blow things up? Was she one of those crazy dames who kill their kids because she’s got post-modern depression?” asked fisherman Clint Shimmell.

  “Th
at’s postpartum depression, you idiot!” barked Trudy Mundy, one of the customs agents Jake recognized from the Arrow Bay ferry dock.

  “I remember that name!” yelled Rebecca Windsor. “She was a devil-worshipping cannibal in Seattle. She cooked and ate kids from the local elementary school!”

  Pandemonium. Randy Burrows engineered an eardrum-bursting bit of feedback on the speakers to get people to calm down. Finally, when some semblance of order regained, Chief Sanderson said abruptly, “She did not cook or eat any children. She was involved in a crime that left her—”

  “Child molester,” cried Marilyn Sandy. “You’ve let a child molester into our midst. That’s the only reason they inform the public. She’s some sick, twisted, child-molesting monster.”

  A handsome young man Jake recognized as a detective with the Arrow Bay Police Department from the incident on the Elwha the previous year leaned in and said just audibly saying by those close enough to the stage, “You’re losing ’em, boss.”

  “Who’s that?” asked Sam, also taking note of the dark haired, dark-eyed, powerfully built man on the stage.

  “He’s a detective with Arrow Bay,” Jake replied. “I spoke to him briefly on the Elwha last year when the whole Susan Crane thing happened,” Jake said, not wanting to remember it. He pulled up the mental file cabinet of his eidetic memory and came up with the name. “Haggerty was his name.”

  “Folks,” said Chief Sanderson in desperation, “All I can tell you is she is not a danger.”

  “Then why are you telling us about her?” demanded George Mayhew.

  “That seems to be a valid question,” remarked Sam, thoughtfully stroking his beard.

  Chief Sanderson was not able to control his temper. “Listen, people. Miss Snipes has been paroled. She is currently under surveillance and is wearing an ankle bracelet to track her movements at all times—”

  “Oh, let’s get out of here. If I hear Rebecca Windsor say one more thing about the devil, I’m going to shove a crystal up her nose.”

  Sam pretended to be appalled at such a remark as they got up to leave. They stepped into the cool October air, the wind swirling around them. Behind them, the meeting was breaking up, as people were filing out of City Hall behind them.